His Royal Love-Child (18 page)

“That was smart of them.”

“Yes, but then there is no doubting my ancestors were brilliant men.”

She laughed out loud and turned to face Marcello who had taken a seat beside her after greeting his father with the customary kiss on both cheeks. “It definitely comes from both sides of your family.”

“What does?” King
Vincente
asked.

Marcello’s smile was warm and sent a sense of well-being spreading through her. “
Danette
considers me arrogant.”

“And you believe he gets this trait from both his mother and
myself
?” King
Vincente
asked her.

“I’m sure of it.”

“You find
Flavia
arrogant?”

“Had she been a shy retiring little thing, I’m sure she would never have interested you,”
Danette
replied by way of compromise. She didn’t know if he would find her assessment of his former wife flattering, or not.

Something told her he was not tolerant of any criticism directed at his family and that included the woman who had had the temerity to divorce him.

“This is true,” he mused, his expression giving nothing away regarding what he thought of her comment. “And was it
your
arrogance that drew my son’s interest?”

She stared at him, not sure what to say.
She’d never considered herself arrogant, but wouldn’t it sound self-serving to say so?
Especially after teasing both Marcello and his father about the fact that they were?
She hadn’t meant to give offense, but neither did she think either man could even begin to deny the claim.

“She is not arrogant, Papa.
Stubborn, yes.
Proud as well, but she is far too compassionate with others to be arrogant.”

“You say she is compassionate?” King
Vincente
asked with a wholly unexpected scathing disbelief and
Danette
flinched.

What had she done to give him such a low opinion of her?

“Yes, she is.”

“And you,” he asked, meeting
Danette’s
gaze. “Do you consider yourself compassionate?”

“Yes, but why are you asking me that?”

“You refuse to marry my son.”

“I didn’t…I don’t—”

“Papa, do not get into this right now,” Marcello said in a voice that could have flash-frozen lava.

But
King
Vincente
ignored him, his attention fixed wholly on
Danette
, his eyes raking her with disapproval. “You are willing to bring a child of
Scorsolini
blood into the world without the benefit of matrimony. The newspapers are slaying Marcello, making him out to be a fool and worse.”

Marcello jumped to his feet, yelling at his father to shut up, but King
Vincente
went on remorselessly.

“You allow this vilification by the press of my son and know it will be no better for your child—yet you continue to deny Marcello his right to give you his name. How do you call that compassionate?” he demanded, his scorn withering her.

“I brought her here to be protected, not browbeaten,” Marcello gritted out between clenched teeth as he grabbed her upper arms and lifted her from the chair. “You will not speak to my woman this way. Come,
Danette
, we will leave.”

“Is she yours?” King
Vincente
demanded mockingly and she felt Marcello flinch, even though she knew he didn’t want her to.

“It appears I have arrived just in time.”

Another voice intruded, that of
Flavia
Scorsolini
, and the effect it had on the king was electric.

T
HAT
vaunted arrogance drained away along with the color in his face. His head snapped sideways.
“
Flavia
?”

“As you see.”
She came forward and hugged both Marcello’s rigidly furious form and
Danette
.

She patted Marcello’s cheek. “Relax, my son. Do not be so angry with your papa. He wants only to protect you as you wish to protect
Danette
.”

“I am no child to be protected!”

“You will always be our child. Accept it.” She smiled at
Danette
, her eyes filled with warm understanding. “Do you wish to leave,
cara
?”

“No.” The king had made some comments that she wanted explained and she wasn’t going anywhere until they were.

“You see, Marcello? She is not ready to go.”

“I will not allow her to be hurt.”

“Some things cannot be hidden from her,” was his mother’s enigmatic reply.

Marcello looked entirely unconvinced and
Danette
pressed her hand over his heart. “Please, Marcello.”

“I do not want you upset.”

“Thank you, but I want to stay.”

He stared at her, his eyes filled with some
unnameable
emotion. Finally he nodded and then turned his gaze to
Flavia
. “Mama, we did not expect you.”

“I learned yesterday evening from the owner of my favorite boutique that you planned to fly over early. I guessed your reasoning, what your father’s reaction to it would be, and changed my own plans accordingly.”

“You think Miss Michaels needs your championship?” King
Vincente
asked in a voice that sounded strained.

Danette
looked at him and sucked in a breath. He was watching
Flavia
with an expression so akin to agonized need that
Danette’s
heart squeezed on his behalf.

Flavia
appeared oblivious. “I think that you will browbeat the poor child out of that arrogance that up until now she has found rather amusing.”

“Do you deny that her refusal to marry our son is detrimental to the welfare of everyone involved?”

“And did your son tell you that
Danette
refused to marry him?”

Anger replaced the strange expression on the king’s face. “I read the papers. Nowhere was there a mention of an upcoming marriage. I know my son. He would never allow his child to enter the world without the benefit of his name. If there is no marriage planned, it is because she has refused him.”

Flavia
shook her head. “There is no fool like an old fool.”

“I am not old,” he said, sounding thoroughly outraged.

“But you are a fool.”

King
Vincente
looked ready to spit nails, but he didn’t yell.
Danette
found that fascinating.

“What newspapers?” she asked.

“The ones my son hoped to hide from you by coming here,”
Flavia
replied.

“And it damn well would have worked if Papa had kept his big mouth shut.”

“Marcello! I did not raise you to speak with such language or so disrespectfully to your father.”

Marcello’s glare gave no quarter, but
Danette
wasn’t interested in family dynamics at the moment. “I repeat…what newspapers? Do you have copies?”

“Yes,” King
Vincente
said at the same time Marcello growled, “No!”

Danette
ignored the man she loved in favor of giving his father a gimlet stare. “I want to know what is being said. I want to see the papers, and I want to see them right now.”

Marcello pulled her around to face him, his blue gaze more than a little troubled. “
Danette
, seeing the stories will serve no purpose but to hurt you. I do not want that.”

“I know, but I can’t hide from it. Your mom is right.”

“No, she is wrong.”

“I’m no wimp, Marcello. Either you trust me to handle the tough stuff, or you don’t.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You do,” she said with bone-deep certainty.

He didn’t want her to see the stories, but he didn’t doubt her ability to deal with them. She could see it in his eyes.

“I do.”

Just then a young man in a business suit appeared beside King
Vincente
. “You buzzed me, Your Highness?”

“Bring me the papers with my son’s picture plastered all over the front of them.”

“This is foolish,” Marcello ground out, but without much heat.

King
Vincente
frowned at him. “She has a right to know what is being said and if she is not strong enough to deal with it, she is not strong enough to be your princess.”

“I’m not weak,”
Danette
insisted, her own voice as heated as Marcello’s had been earlier.

She’d spent her childhood being forced to submit to a bodily infirmity. She had fought, and won that fight. She would never submit willingly to any weakness again.

Flavia
shook her head, making a clucking sound. “
Vincente
, I swear you grow only more stubborn and opinionated with age.”

“Do you disagree with me?” he demanded with an edge that said her opinion really mattered.

“No, but if you had an ounce of sensitivity, you could have put it differently. Nor do I doubt this woman’s strength.”

“So, I am not a diplomat with my family,” the older man grumbled. “A man should have some people in his life with whom he can be honest without fear of reprisal.
Even a king.”

“Yes, but some honesty is better left unspoken.”

The aide returned with the papers and
Danette
looked through them while Marcello smoldered beside her. The headlines were vicious and the story copy wasn’t much better.

“Prince’s Secret Mistress Pregnant,
But
Is It Really His Baby?” read one. She winced when she read the next: “Sterile Prince
To
Be Father At Last…Or Is He?” Then there was, “Playboy Prince Has No Plans
To
Marry Pregnant Lover.”

“I didn’t realize they knew about the baby.”

“Our trip to the bookstore was not the smartest move I have ever made,” Marcello admitted in a roughened undertone.

But
it wasn’t just their reading material that had tipped off the press. Someone at
Scorsolini
Shipping had heard about her trip to the ladies’ room during her presentation and about the employees from the
warehouse who were
commissioned to move her things from her little cottage to his big apartment.

Whoever it was had put the facts together correctly and tipped off the press. A sense of betrayal washed over her. It was hard to believe a co-worker would sell her and Marcello out like that.

She skimmed the articles and felt bile rise in her throat. The speculation ran all the way from the baby being someone else’s to her refusing to marry because he’d already moved onto another woman before she discovered her pregnancy. The picture of him dancing with the blonde played prominently. So did old pictures of him with Bianca, and new ones of
Danette
and Marcello together coming out of the bookstore.

Unflattering comparisons were made between the two women and
Danette’s
unsuitability for being the mother of a prince’s baby was touted by more than one reporter. Her mother was going to have a fit for more reason than one when she read the article…if she read it.
Danette
sincerely hoped her mom didn’t.

But
the worst by far were the innuendos that implied she’d gotten pregnant by someone else and was trying to trap Marcello into marriage or bilk him for money.

She dropped the paper and said, “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Marcello went to pick her up, but
Flavia
was faster, pushing
Danette
onto a short white sofa that matched the chairs in the reception hall. “Lie back. Yes, just like that. Now breathe deeply and concentrate on something else.”

Danette
did the breathing, but she couldn’t think of anything but the horrible things said in those articles. She turned stricken eyes to Marcello. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“None of this was your fault,” he said fiercely, dropping to his knees beside her.

But
it was. She’d worried what would happen when the press knew about the baby and now she knew. It was awful. “You hate this…this is what you wanted to avoid more than anything. I’m so sorry,” she said again, knowing the words were inadequate for the way his pride had to have been savaged by those stories. “You don’t doubt you are the father, do you?”

“How can you ask me that? I have already said I had no worries on that score.”

“But now that all this has come out…”

“Make no mistake, I hate those stories and the attention is unpleasant, but my thought since reading the first one yesterday morning has been to protect you. I do not care what they say about me. I know that baby inside you is mine.”

“It is, Marcello.”

“Of course he knows it is.”
Flavia
shook her head and patted
Danette’s
hand. “My son is no fool…usually.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” King
Vincente
asked with umbrage.

Flavia
spun to face him. “You can take full credit for his idiocy, too. Because he was already married and loved once before, he convinced
Danette
that he is no more capable of fidelity than you are.”

The king had looked pale before, but he looked positively gray now. “I—”

“You have to stop punishing yourself. Do you hear me? You have planted this stupid idea into the heads of our sons, and the good God above alone knows how much damage it has done with the older boys.”

“Your Highness, the people are awaiting entry outside the doors.” The aide had come back.

“I must do my duty,” King
Vincente
said, his expression of a man who was going through hell and saw no way out.

Flavia
nodded,
her expression unreadable.
“Of course.
Marcello, bring
Danette
. We will retire to the private apartments.” She yawned delicately. “I could use a nap. I flew through the night and got very little sleep.”